Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Is it weird that I’ve never tasted it in my life?
Probably.
I’ve tasted my dad’s former best friend before I’ve… wow. I’m cutting that off right here, right now. Hopefully to be resumed later.
That kind of negates the purpose of forcing yourself down a different line of thinking, does it not?
I sit down with the bottle right by the bar and peel off the fancy gold foil from the top. The cork looks complicated. Am I supposed to have a special device to open it, like what is used on wine?
“Here I was, preparing this speech for you about how I’m not nearly so innocent and getting ready to explain all about the debauchery that has surrounded most of the parameters of my life, especially my college years, and how I’m not made of glass, but I’m also realizing that I have no idea how to open this.” I ease my eyes to Luca’s face. Part of me can’t believe I just blurted that out, but the other half can, since I’m nervous as hell. “Anyway, the fact that I’ve never had champagne aside, you don’t have to worry about breaking me.”
And… cutttttt.
I start twisting the metal loop around the cork, but it only seems to wind itself tighter, no matter the direction I go.
“This is almost worse than ‘and/or’ meat,” Luca mutters, making a slash in the air with his hand so I know how he views the and/or.
“What’s that?” I’m half afraid to ask.
“When you’re reading the ingredients on a package and it says, and/or pork or beef, or and/or pork or chicken,” he grunts.
“Oh. Like hot dogs. Don’t worry about that. They’re delicious.”
He always looks so surprised when I make him laugh. I hear what he’s not saying. We’re on a party bus of all things, going to Ohio of all places, and with each other of all people. He didn’t expect to laugh because while the whole situation is unbelievable and nearly inconceivable, it really shouldn’t be funny.
It’s only worthy of laughter if we can make it.
I want to make it. So badly.
There are times when the only thing you can do is laugh. It’s good medicine, even when you don’t feel like it, and probably the only time that faking it until you make it is a good argument.
“My dad isn’t… he’s not… he’s going to be excited to see you. You don’t have to expect hard feelings and hard hearts.”
He blinks, fidgeting with one of the pins holding his sleeve to the main body of his jacket. “Your parents are expressive people who aren’t afraid to speak their minds.”
If only he knew how true that was.
I guess he does know. Time changes a lot, but it doesn’t fundamentally change who people are.
“They have some notions that I’d consider antiquated, and we’ve had our disagreements about things, but who doesn’t with their parents?” I play with the metal a little bit more, but it only seems to be twisting tighter again. “I know that everything they’ve done, they’ve done it because they love me and want what’s best for me.”
“What did you all disagree about? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“College. I wanted to go to culinary school. I’ve said that since I was a little girl. But my mom wanted me to go into business.”
“And you did.”
I sigh. “I did. Majored in economics.”
“Holy fuck,” he exclaims. “You’re incredibly smart.”
My laughter echoes through the bus. This bus has great acoustics. “Are you just figuring that out now?”
He studies me, fiddling with the safety pin on his jacket so hard that it pops open and flings onto the floor. He quickly snaps it up and tries to edge it back into place. It takes all my self-control not to get up and do it for him. Being near him isn’t something that I can just do, though. Not when I want it as badly as I do.
“I didn’t mean—” he mumbles.
“I know. I was just kidding.” I stick my tongue out at him. It’s dark, and the blue lights throw things off, but I swear a red flush creeps up his neck. “I’m not that smart. I barely passed some of that crap.” I’m twisting the metal on the champagne so hard that it’s probably going to snap off at any time. Then how will we drink it? We could break the bottle, but I’d like my champagne sans glass. “I got my average up with electives and doing the fun stuff like film, arts, English, creative writing, and history. I took as many of those as I could. I’m decent with computers, so that also saved me. I enjoyed marketing too. Stats not so much, but does anyone like stats?”
“That’s probably a hard no,” he says with a chuckle.
“My parents pushed for me to go into business. I half hated that, but I’m half glad they did. I wanted to go to culinary school, and I was red hot mad that they wouldn’t let me, but in my second year of college, I kind of came around. I settled in and made some friends. I still wish I could go, and I’ll say that until my dying breath, but I’m back working at the bakery. I have been for a year. It’s a great thing to be able to do all the financials and paperwork, plus know my way around a website and how to do proper marketing.” If only my dad would listen to me when it comes to all the overhauls I want to do.